I spoke a thought aloud. You will have a bungalow to yourself," continued McClintock, "and your morning meal will be your own affair. ‘Don’t want it to break out bleeding again. "The poor young man!" sighed Angelina. The stranger with a bow returned to his table. “Have to go now. “Why don’t you?” “Well, it might mean rather a row. I am yours for the making over. "Good-bye, young man; and good luck.
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